


In The Details

by Bibliotecaria_D



Series: How To Train Your Tank [3]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 19:46:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12778185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bibliotecaria_D/pseuds/Bibliotecaria_D
Summary: Nobody told Deathsaurus the D.J.D. had a tag-along. Oops?





	In The Details

**Title:** In The Details  
 **Warning:** Decepticons, violence, death, Overlord.  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Continuity:** IDW, sequel to _Devil May Care_.  
 **Characters:** Deathsaurus, Leozack, Blue Bacchus, Tarn, Decepticon Justice Division, Overlord.  
 **Disclaimer:** The theatre doesn’t own the script or actors.  
 **Motivation (Prompt):** Continuing the How To Train Your Tank AU, bringing it back into canon events with only a small tweak. Very small. Just a tiny difference in how things unfolded when Tarn went to meet Deathsaurus. Blink and you might miss it.

**[* * * * *]**

This wasn’t going as planned.

The trick with the box had gone off without a hitch, unbelievable as it seemed. Tarn really did have a reputation for helping fellow Decepticons, even if those fellow Decepticons whispered he was a prissy slagger about it. More of the type to help on the administrative level than pitching in with the physical labor side of things, yeah? Still, he had his pride. Once Deathsaurus handed him a box and made a comment in everyone’s hearing about helping, Tarn was too proud to drop the thing.

Leading him ahead of the rest of the D.J.D. worked as well. Tarn walked faster to keep up with Deathsaurus long strides, and they left the other D.J.D. members behind. That part was a little _too_ easy for Deathsaurus’ suspicious nature, but Blue Bacchus kept an optic on them. The crew outnumbered the D.J.D. by an absurd amount. If they tried anything, sheer numbers had them at a disadvantage. Sure, the Justice Division was scary as frag, but they weren’t immortal. Deathsaurus might lose a few mechs, but it’d be worth it to take out this bunch of murderers.

Besides, avoidance wasn’t an option. It was kill or be killed. He didn’t believe a single word of Tarn’s message. The only reason the leader of the D.J.D. would want to ‘talk’ to him was to use his notorious voice to make an example of him. Deathsaurus intended the lesson to go the other direction.

So the box exploded, and Deathsaurus turned off his audios, negating Tarn’s outlier talent. It cut him down to Deathsaurus’ level physically. Mech to mech, the Warworld commander was confident it’d be a fair fight. Although Tarn seemed oddly reluctant to fight full-force, giving a lame-aft ‘warning shot’ as though Deathsaurus would realize the error of his ways and surrender quietly.

…it was beginning to look like an option.

All four optics so wide the frame hurt, the feared and respected commander of a rogue Warworld hung by the scruff of his neck from Overlord’s hand. He stayed very still. He had the distinct feeling that he was staring down Death’s gun barrel. He wasn’t dead yet, but Death had his finger on the trigger.

The Phase Sixer had appeared out of practically _nowhere_ , only a belated series of shrieked messages on the internal comm. network tracking his abrupt and fiery entry into the Warworld. Like Black Shadow before him, he apparently had little difficulty simply blasting his own path through the gigantic fortress. It’d taken him the space of a minute to reach the fight. Deathsaurus knew Phase Sixers were superpowered soldiers, but _one minute_ from the second Deathsaurus triggered the explosion until Overlord plucked him up off of Tarn as effortlessly as someone picking up a piece of litter for disposal? It was enough to scare the paint off anyone. 

The speed wasn’t half as shocking as suddenly being hoisted into the air like he wasn’t in the middle of a life-or-death fight. Overlord barely even noticed him. Deathsaurus wasn’t significant enough. He got one uninterested glance before Overlord turned his attention to Tarn. Who, this? Was Deathsaurus in Tarn’s way? No problem. Overlord would just throw him away.

Deathsaurus would prefer not to be thrown away. *”Damage report?”* he hissed over internal comms. There was no logical reason to keep his voice down over an internal link, but fear for life and limb didn’t bow to logic. Survival instinct insisted on small and quiet, so small and quiet Deathsaurus would be.

A sentiment shared by his crew, evidently. Leozack cursed into the connection, steady but quiet. *”We’re screwed,”* Blue Bacchus said in a low, profoundly unhappy voice. *”He came in **through** the engine block. We don’t know what’s left to repair at this point, but we’re not going anywhere until we do.”* Ohhh, that wasn’t good. Things had just gone from bad to worse.

Meanwhile, Leozack’s nonstop whispered curses turned ugly as despair undercut anger. *“We’re twenty -- get a patch on him before he bleeds out! -- down, and that’s just collateral -- here! I need a medic **here!** \-- damage from standing too close to where he cut through. He wasn’t even trying -- where’s the blasted medic?! -- to hit anyone.”* Because there would be a _lot_ more dead mechs if Overlord had aimed to kill.

They were so fragged.

Deathsaurus scrolled through the Warworld’s internal network and winced at the panic. His crew was in full retreat, terror overcoming loyalty. They abandoned him to his fate, hoping his execution would buy them time to escape. Dread swept through him. The disorganized mess of fleeing mechs rendered them easy targets.

Overlord continued to stand here doing nothing, however. He smirked down at the leader of the D.J.D. and offered the hand not holding Deathsaurus. Tarn didn’t seem inclined to accept the help standing. He sat on the deckplates, optics narrow as he glared up at the Phase Sixer. Deathsaurus saw his mouth move behind the mask. Overlord said something in return. Tarn gestured, exasperated and massively irritated, and Overlord’s smirk became a short laugh. Tarn kept gesturing. He seemed to be yelling at the Phase Sixer, and Overlord apparently found being told off to be hilarious.

Deathsaurus’ optics flicked back and forth between them. He really wanted to hear what they were saying, but was it worth risking Tarn’s vocal talent? Part of him had accepted he would die today, but most of him desperately, frantically wanted to live, even if only for a few minutes longer.

One of the other Justice Division members ventured down the hall, sliding around on Overlord’s other side. It was the optic-less one. Kaon? Whatever his name, he tilted his head at Tarn as if asking a question. Patience spent, Tarn facepalmed. As the tankformer dragged his hand down his mask, his subordinate smiled slightly and said something to Overlord. Overlord blinked, frowning, and made an eloquent questioning motion using the hand holding Deathsaurus. 

Deathsaurus could read lips enough to see _how_ , and he filled in the blanks from there. _’How did this sack of spare parts take down Tarn? I can kill him with one hand.’_

Pride or not, Deathsaurus shrank into himself a tiny bit. He’d always thought he’d go out fighting, chin up and snarling defiance. Now that it came down to facing death, he found it a little more difficult than he thought not to beg. It didn’t help that Overlord kept talking, using him as some sort of prop for whatever he was saying. Maybe it was an offer to clear the Warworld of any other List trash that might inconvenience the Justice Division. Overlord seemed like the kind of Decepticon to show off how strong he was just to thumb his nose at Megatron’s boogeymechs. 

Tarn facepalmed again, looking one step from losing his temper entirely. The rest of the D.J.D. came into view, and the casual way they gathered didn’t give Deathsaurus much hope of escaping in the chaos. From how they stood, they didn’t want to get in the way of whatever fight started between Overlord and their boss, but they weren’t particularly worried about it. Overlord and Tarn arguing seemed to be an accepted thing. It wouldn’t distract them enough for Deathsaurus to get away.

Kaon shaped a box in the air with his hands, explaining the explosion, and Overlord’s optics popped wide in pleased surprise. The Phase Sixer started laughing. And laughing. And _laughing_. He laughed so hard he staggered backward. Deathsaurus swung wildly from his hand as the supersoldier sank to the floor, laughing so hard he had to sit down. 

Even with his feet finally back on the deckplating, Deathsaurus didn’t dare move. He didn’t want Overlord’s attention back on him. Being ignored might be humiliating, but it beat death by a long shot. There was nothing like feeling humbled and completely powerless to put a mech in his place, and Deathsaurus got the intense feeling that his place was under Overlord’s heel right now. 

Tarn peered over his hands, glaring fit to drill a hole straight through them both. Deathsaurus stared back at him in wide-opticked silence. Look, whatever animosity was between them, could they please leave him out of it?

*”Boss? Are you still alive?”* Blue Bacchus asked, hushed and uneasy. The laughter probably sounded like a death knell from wherever he hid.

Deathsaurus tried to be subtle about testing Overlord’s grip. Nope, not going anywhere. *”For the moment.”*

*”Orders?”* 

He was realistic. Ordering a rescue wouldn’t help. There were Decepticons loyal enough to try, but they would die in the futile attempt. Shutting off his optics, he gave the most difficult order in his life. *”Evacuate the Warworld. Run. Rise up another day.”* Live in his stead, since he was pretty much already dead.

Tarn dropped his hands. When Deathsaurus looked down at him, bleak despair fighting fatalistic pride, the leader of the D.J.D. seemed to reach a decision. His optics shut off as he took a deep breath, obviously drawing on his last dregs of patience. His shoulders rolled back, his back straightened, and he rose from the floor with the deliberate grace of a king rising from his throne. When he glared at Overlord this time, the hand on the back of Deathsaurus’ neck let go.

*”Belay that order,”* Tarn’s deep, rich, _dangerous_ voice said over the Warworld’s comm. network, and dismay struck Deathsaurus like a physical blow.

All this time, he’d thought he’d disarmed Tarn by taking his audios offline.

All this time, Tarn had held their sparks in his hand.

*”Return to the Warworld, and you will be spared,”* Tarn continued as Deathsaurus gaped at him and choked exclamations of pain and terror overflowed the channel. That deadly voice squeezed a velvet fist around their sparks, and now Deathsaurus understood why a shot from doubled fusion cannons was considered a warning. This. This had been the real threat all along, and Tarn was bringing the hammer down. *”I came in peace to speak with you, and I will enforce that peace.”*

Peace through tyranny. A nice reference to their origins, but at this point, the faster -- and debatably more intelligent -- Decepticons had had whole minutes to escape. They were going to keep running and pray Tarn couldn’t pick them out of the crowd. Deathsaurus knew his crew. He couldn’t blame them for fleeing for their lives, and he wished them luck.

Or that was his intention, but another, smugger voice broke onto the hijacked channel. *”You should listen to him. It’s not often he offers mercy, after all, and he’s just promised it to anyone on board.”* Overlord laughed softly, his purring tone somehow more sinister than anger. *”Would you like to see what happens to those who don’t return?”*

*”Get back on the ship!”* Leozack shouted into the connection. 

*”How did he get out here?!”* someone screeched, and Deathsaurus whipped around, all four optics searching the hall for someone who no longer there. Overlord was _fast_.

*”Flight One, Flight One, abort!”* Blue Bacchus said, forcibly calm. *”Abort! Veer starboard and come around to the docking bay. Pick up any stragglers, I’m being hailed by at least three of our people trying to make the turn-around near your coordinates. Overlord, those four vessels in your flight path are emergency escape pods, they do **not** have steering to make the turn -- frag.”* His voice dropped to a near-whisper on the last word, hoarse and afraid. Deathsaurus heard his vox box click several times through reset. *”…Flight Three, check for survivors. I’m not seeing anyone from here, but don’t leave until you’re sure there’s no injured in the debris.”* He swallowed loudly and shifted to a placating tone. *”Overlord, Flight Two is slowing to make the turn. They’re coming back to the Warworld. Overlord, please respond.”*

A dozen screaming voices on one of the frequencies abruptly shattered into garbled static. A few seconds later, it became white noise, then blanked into empty silence.

Leozack cursed sharply. *”Flight Two’s gone. He’s headed for the next shoal of escape pods.”*

*”Acknowledged. All pods, abort. Abandon pods, I repeat, abandon pods. All Flights, follow and retrieve people, not pods. He’s aiming for anything pointed away.”*

*” **Enough** ,”* Tarn barked even as Deathsaurus whirled back around to confront him. *”I’ve no interest in punishment. Give them time to return, Overlord.”*

Overlord chuckled. *”You came to talk to them, and they responded with violence. Violence begets violence, don’t you think? They brought this on themselves. I’m only paying them back for that box of explosives. Which you accepted.”* He snickered, sounding far too amused about that. *”So in a way, you brought this on them.”*

*”If I wanted them dead, I would merely lower my voice,”* Tarn said, which was a fair point. 

Tarn refocused on Deathsaurus as Overlord grumbled, strangely good-natured about being ordered about. One hand rose to tap the side of his helm. Deathsaurus pressed his lips into a thin line but nodded, bringing his audios back online. He’d never thought he’d want to face Tarn’s voice, but it was the better option right now. He stood there staring at the leader of the D.J.D. with his hands clenched into helpless fists because there was nothing he could do but hope Tarn could control the Phase Sixer destroying his crew. 

“You wanted to talk,” he gritted out, each word peeling a strip off his already battered pride. “Talk.”

“I wanted a word with you in private,” Tarn corrected him. “However, I don’t feel that privacy is wise anymore. Overlord’s twisted idea of teaching people a lesson is a perversion of good taste. Leaving him to his own devices will result in ‘accidents’ only he thinks are funny.”

*”I heard that.”*

”Do you disagree?”

*”Heh.”*

Deathsaurus wasn’t reassured when the rest of the D.J.D. smothered laughter. He felt as though he’d been dropped into someone else’s drama. 

Tarn glowered but ignored the giggles. “In any case, this saves time. I can talk to all your troops at once. Now, is everyone listening?” The patronizing question was a threat, but the faint thrill of pain through their sparks was still less dangerous than being left to Overlord’s nonexistent mercies. A chorus of _’yes’_ and more than a few _’sir yes sir’_ s filled the channel. Deathsaurus nodded cautiously. Everyone was listening.

Satisfied, Tarn nodded back. “Good. Question: when did you become a Decepticon?”

“I was **built** a Decepticon.” Deathsaurus bared his fangs, daring Tarn to say slag-all about cold constructs.

But everything had gone (mostly) according to Tarn’s plan. “As I thought,” he said, and survival instinct kept Deathsaurus quiet long enough to hear him out.

Tarn was a smooth talker and a powerful speaker in his own right. Maybe his words gained in power from the Phase Sixer circling the Warworld in a slow hunt for victims. Perhaps he was just that persuasive. Either way, in the end he won Deathsaurus’ respect via words, and the Warworld followed where he led. 

The Decepticons went to war.

**[* * * * *]**


End file.
